The Angels of Prague
by Argonaut57
Summary: Minerva McGonagalls' Grand Tour has been interesting if uneventful so far. Until, in an abandoned church in Prague, she encounters some very dangerous statues and a mad muggle with a blue box!
1. Chapter 1

**The Angels of Prague**

**Excessive Curiosity Can Be a Vice**

It would be untrue to say that Minerva McGonagall had not enjoyed her Grand Tour so far. She just hadn't enjoyed it the same way her former classmates had. Conventional sight-seeing, nightclubs, sleeping late and the constant search for young men to flirt with were not, strictly speaking, her style.

Not that Minerva had any objection to young men, or indeed flirting. But she had discovered that things were different in Europe. It seemed that here on the Continent, young wizards preferred girls who were shorter than them, curvy and who fluttered their eyelashes and giggled a lot. Minerva, tall, slender, handsome rather than pretty, with a disconcertingly direct gaze and a dry sense of humour that verged on the acerbic, found her opportunities limited. Odd, she had had no trouble at home when it came to locating male companionship. Perhaps British wizards were more grown-up?

Her mother, of course, had insisted she go with a group of girls. Genevieve Bartleys' mother had mentioned that Genevieve was getting a party together, and both had immediately decided that this would be ideal for Minerva. They had assumed, in the way of parents, that since the girls had been House- and class-mates, they must be friends. Well, to be fair, they got on well enough, but they weren't close – most of Minervas' best friends at school had been boys.

That said, Genevieve had taken Minerva aside just before they left and said: "I'm awfully glad you agreed to come, Min. Some of the girls Mother has landed me with can be terribly silly, and I need at least one more person I can rely on to be sensible!"

So, sensible and silly alike, they had wended their way across Europe, beginning (of course) with Paris and intending to finish in Moscow. They had arrived in Prague the night before last.

By 1955, most of Western Europe was well into recovery from _The War_. That was how muggles said it – _The War_ – you could hear the italics and capitals. But Eastern Europe, behind what muggles were calling the Iron Curtain, still lived under the manufactured austerity of a harsh Communist regime. At least the muggle part of it did. For wizards it was business as usual, by and large. On entering the country, the girls had been provided by the Czech Ministry of Magic with the necessary papers to show to muggle officials and a selection of suitable muggle clothing. They had also been told, off the record, that the Czech Ministry took a rather relaxed attitude to the use of certain charms and spells if used to evade or escape from over-zealous State police.

However, most of the party had elected to spend their time in wizard Prague, with its comfortable hotels and lively night-life. Only Minerva had undertaken any extensive exploration of the city. She found herself enchanted and fascinated by the city's mix of Romanesque, Gothic and Renaissance architecture. She had visited the Castle, explored the Jewish Quarter, been to the scenes of both Defenestrations and examined St Vitus' Cathedral.

Today, however, her peregrinations had taken her into an area she had never seen before. It was one of those odd little enclaves you find in European cities; a place that hadn't changed much since the Middle Ages. Narrow, crooked streets lined with little houses whose upper storeys projected out beyond the ground floor, nearly meeting the ones opposite. Shops that were only marked out from the houses by the ancient, painted signs that hung outside them.

Eventually, she emerged into a little square that was abuzz with activity. Stalls had been crammed into every available space, and crowds of people milled among them, haggling and bargaining with the stall holders in a very un-Socialistic way. Enchanted, Minerva plunged into the crowd, looking at everything, listening to everything, taking it all in.

Eventually, she arrived at a stall near one end of the square, where a hugely fat, bearded man who reminded her of Father Christmas, served her a cup of strong tea from a gigantic samovar that looked capable of powering a steam locomotive.

"You're not from here, are you?" He asked.

Minerva, glad she'd spent so long on the Translation charm before leaving home, shook her head. "How did you know?"

The man laughed. "I've never seen you here before, but you're not like the other new ones. The first few times they find their way here, they're always looking over their shoulders, expecting the authorities at any moment.

"But you, you look around, but only because you're curious. You come from somewhere where people aren't afraid of the authorities."

"I'm from Scotland." Minerva informed him.

He nodded. "British, then. My brother ended up in England during _The War, _he's still there, lucky devil. Place called the Yorkshire Dales, do you know it?"

Minerva smiled. "I've a friend from there, spent a summer with his family. Rugged, magnificent country and tough, rawboned folk who don't say much but treat a guest like family."

The man seemed somehow comforted by this. As Minerva finished her tea, he leaned forward.

"A word to the wise, Miss." He said quietly. "You look like a young woman who has sense and doesn't scare easily. There are places round here were folk have disappeared. Nothing to do with the police, just gone. Take my advice and don't wander too far away from where there are people. Where there's people, you're safe."

Minerva thanked him for the tea and the advice. Some teenagers would have resented the latter, she knew, but it was eminently sensible. _Besides,_ she reflected, _he's a muggle. He has no idea of what I can do if necessary._

Nevertheless, she tried to take his advice as she continued her exploration. The trouble with old cities, though, is that they collect the past. Not history, which is written (and occasionally rewritten) by whoever happens to be in charge at the time, but the past. The things that actually happened, but where never recorded; either because they didn't matter enough, or because nobody wanted to admit they were real.

If Minerva McGonagall had a besetting vice, it was curiosity. It was the only thing that had ever got her into trouble at home or school. But it had paid dividends. It had led her to the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, for instance, and to the secret tunnels and passages that led from the Castle to various locations in and around Hogsmeade. There were a dozen houses in Edinburgh where she'd discovered something queer in the cellar, as well.

This area distilled the past. The narrow, winding streets alternately hid and revealed more bustling markets, or little squares where people sat and chatted and old men played chess or cards. But gradually, the numbers of people dwindled. Mindful of the advice she had been given, Minerva cast around for a way back, but her wanderings had been too random. Instead, she found herself within earshot of the traffic of modern Prague – she must be nearer the newer part of the city, then.

Heading toward the sound, she turned into one last square and saw before her a large church. Minerva stopped short and stared. This was not the first church she had seen in this section, but the others had been small parish churches. This one was much larger, and had at one time been richer. Now, though, it had an air of abandonment, of disuse that puzzled and intrigued her.

Muggles here were religious, she knew, despite the official atheist stance of the Communist government. It struck her as odd that they should ignore or avoid so large and beautiful a church. She approached the building, driven on by her inquisitiveness. As she did so, she heard an odd mechanical sound, a kind of whirring and groaning, which she put down to some piece of muggle equipment in the next street.

The great door of the church hung invitingly ajar, and before she realised it, Minerva had stepped inside. Despite dust, cobwebs and a general air of desuetude, the interior was magnificent. The high, vaulted nave was supported by pillars into which were carved niches holding small statues of various figures, and was lined with exquisitely-worked dark wooden pews. The large stained glass windows were dusty and dirty, but still impressive in their artistry.

Wizard ideas on religion were, on the whole, both vague and eclectic. Minerva knew, from Muggle Studies classes, that most of the major world religions were anti-magic, to a greater or lesser degree. But she also knew that many Half-blood and Muggle-born wizards still followed the traditional practices of their families – one of the girls in her dormitory had kept a Bible by her bed, for instance. Again, many wizards swore by the old Roman gods, more out of habit than belief, but some did believe. She had heard Ravenclaws engaging in philosophical debates about Light and Darkness, Law and Chaos, and so on. She had also heard Slytherins murmur about darker things and whisper names like Great Cthulhu and Nyarlathotep. Out of curiosity, of course, she had visited Muggle places of worship near her home, but this place was vastly different from the resolutely plain, almost grim, kirks and chapels of that fiercely Calvinist locality. It was not a subject on which she had thought deeply, but she was impressed by the commitment and passion shown by those who had worked on this place.

So, why was it abandoned? What had happened here? Had it been the authorities, the place would have been boarded up or demolished, not simply left. A mystery, and mysteries both fascinated and irritated Minerva McGonagall!

She had proceeded slowly up the aisle, and now stood in a open area. Before was the altar, and to either side, smaller chapels. Again, the door of one of these was ajar, so she slipped in.

The room was empty of furniture. On the opposite wall was a superb marble frieze depicting a woman holding a child. The other walls were covered with carved slabs of different stones, with writing the dim light prevented her from reading. The only other object in the room stood in one corner. A life-size statue of a human figure in a long robe. The figure was winged and held its hands in front of its face, as if weeping. It seemed oddly out of place, carved from a grey granite at variance with the other stone around it.

Minerva took another glance around the chapel. Then she sensed something and her gaze swung to the statue. _It had moved!_ It now stood in the centre of the chapel, and though it still covered its face, the position of the hands had changed.

This was clearly magic of the highest order. Was that why the muggles had left this place? Had wizards taken it over? If so, why?

Not for any good purpose, Minerva guessed, pulling her wand out of her coat. She glanced around again, then back to find the statue within a foot of her. Its face was no longer covered, and though the eyes were blank, in the manner of statues, its expression was a fierce grin that exposed sharp, dagger-like teeth.

Minerva took a firmer grip on her wand. Whatever this was, it clearly meant her harm. Well, it would find that Minerva McGonagall was a force to be reckoned with!

Then a hoarse voice spoke from behind her, in English.

"Don't turn round!" It warned her. "Listen to me carefully. Back away toward the door, follow my voice. Keep your eyes on that angel. Don't look away. _Don't even blink!_"


	2. Chapter 2

**The Angels of Prague**

**A More Complicated Universe**

Minerva didn't automatically or instinctively trust the strange voice, she was not that kind of young woman. But she had already deduced that this 'angel', as the voice called it, only moved when she wasn't looking at it. The advice, therefore, was sound. But it was true that she experienced a feeling of relief in knowing she wasn't alone.

Keeping a firm grip on her wand, she obeyed the instructions, backing steadily toward the door.

"Keep coming!" The voice urged as she reached the doorway. Minerva backed on through and beyond the door until a tall figure darted across and slammed it shut. He then produced a small device from his pocket and pointed it at the ancient lock. There was a high-pitched trilling noise and an intense blue light played over the lock for a moment.

"There!" He announced. "That should hold it for a bit. Long enough for us to get out of here, anyway."

Minerva looked him up and down. He was tallish, rather skinny, and though he was wearing muggle clothes, the way he wore them was eccentric enough to suggest he might be a wizard. White shirt, no tie, blue suit, long brown coat and what appeared to be red tennis shoes. As he turned to her she saw brown hair slicked back over a sharp-featured, handsome face with intense eyes. He gave her a wide, slightly manic, grin and asked.

"Are you OK, Miss...?"

"Minerva McGonagall." She answered. "Tell me, are you a wizard or a muggle?"

"Neither." He replied. "I'm the Doctor. We need to get out of here, Minerva. Quickly. That wasn't the only one."

"Oi!" This was another voice, a womans', loud and strident. "Can I stop looking now?"

Minerva turned toward the voice. The woman standing in the nave was as tall as she was, but more solidly built, and even more outlandishly dressed than the man who called himself "the Doctor". Minerva knew that some younger muggle women in Britain had started to go out without hats -unthinkable a few years before – but very few wore their hair long and loose in that way. The long, off-white trench coat was a little too masculine in its cut, while the jumper underneath had a rather more plunging neckline than would have been thought decent for the daytime. But, most unusual of all, the woman was wearing trousers! Minerva couldn't recall the last time she had seen a woman in trousers. To cap everything off, it seemed she was also wearing some kind of tennis or sports shoes – not a high heel to be seen! Minerva wondered if these might be the kind of people her father had referred to as 'Bohemians', though she'd never been quite sure of the meaning of the term.

"No, you can't," the Doctor was telling the woman, "we've all got to keep looking, all around, all the time. If you spot one, shout out, but keep your eyes on it!"

He led Minerva over to where the woman was standing. "Minerva McGonagall, Donna Noble." He said. "Now, we need to get out of here. We go steadily, and keep looking!"

Minerva was quite keyed up already and the air of tension that poured off her new companions stretched her nerves to a hair trigger as they made their way toward the great door.

She had been looking back along the nave when the Doctor gave sharp hiss of indrawn breath. She looked round to see an angel statue -the same or another, she couldn't tell – between them and the door, arm outstretched menacingly toward them. Minerva reacted immediately, not stopping to think. She pointed her wand and snapped "_Reducto_!". The statue shattered into fragments and the air was immediately filled with a thin, barely-heard screeching.

"Oh, that's done it!" The Doctor said. "You've made them mad, now!"

"Run?" Asked Donna.

"Run!" The Doctor assented.

They ran. Minerva managed to reflect that her choice of sturdy walking shoes for her day's tour had proved a wise one, she couldn't have done this in heels. Even so, her struggle, confined by a skirt, to keep up with Donnas' rangy lope gave clear evidence as to the practicality of trousers.

They made it outside without further incident, and the Doctor swung the great door shut with an ease that indicated considerable reserves of strength. Before he could pull out his little device again, Minerva cast the strongest Locking Charm she could remember on the door. He turned and gave that dazzling but slightly disturbing grin again.

"Nice!" He told her. "Let's get back to the TARDIS. There's things we need to find out."

He and Donna moved off. Minerva tagged along, since neither of them seemed to mind. They turned off the square into a narrow alley that opened into a small yard, overlooked only by blank, dirty windows. In the centre of the yard stood an object Minerva dimly recognised from trips to muggle London. A large blue box, surmounted by a lamp and marked as a 'Police Telephone Box'. The Doctor and Donna went straight up to this box, the Doctor inserted a key into the door and went inside. Donna paused on the threshold and turned to Minerva.

"Coming, luv?" She asked in what Minerva now recognised as a London accent.

"Will there be room?" Minerva asked.

"You'd be surprised!" Donna grinned and, with a beckoning wave, disappeared inside. Minerva, now almost past any emotion, took a breath and followed.

The interior was, as she had suspected, much bigger than the exterior promised. It was also very different. Though she was a Half-blood, Minerva had only the vaguest grasp of words such as 'futuristic', and her father, a stern Presbyterian Minister, had banned any form of Science Fiction from the house. Thus she was at once confused and entranced by the high space, with its sweeping ramps and doorways, and the odd-looking console in the centre of the room.

"How very remarkable!" She finally managed.

The Doctor, who had been giving her an expectant grin, now chuckled. "Oh, you're a cool one!" He said approvingly.

Donna shook her head. "You didn't say 'it's bigger on the inside'!" She complained.

This time the Doctor laughed aloud. As she came down the ramp from the door, Minerva explained, "I'm a witch, Miss Noble. I'm quite used to things being larger on the inside. You should see how much I can get into this handbag!"

"Oh, great!" Donna replied wryly. "Now we've got Mary Poppins in the TARDIS! And it's _Ms_ Noble, but call me Donna. Did you just say you were a witch?"

"Yes," Minerva replied coming down the ramp toward them, "I did, I am. Who is Mary Poppins?"

"You'll find out if you go to the pictures in..ohh..about nine years time!" The Doctor told her. "So, you're a witch. Not local. British, yes?"

"Scots." She corrected him.

"Of course, sorry, sorry. Hogwarts, right? Don't tell me, let me guess...Gryffindor?"

"Correct. How?" The speed and accuracy of the mans' deductions was remarkable.

He grinned at her, he grinned a lot. "The way you blew that angel to bits without stopping to think. It's just what Godric would've done. A Ravenclaw would've stopped to think, a Hufflepuff would've used a defensive spell and a Slytherin wouldn't have been there in the first place!"

His summing up of the prime characteristics of the four Hogwarts houses was masterly, and like everything else he said, delivered at a breakneck speed that anyone less quick-minded than Minerva would have struggled to follow. Here was a man, she decided, of exceptional intelligence who struggled to make allowances for others less clever.

"You speak as if you knew Godric Gryffindor." Minerva said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Miss Noble..Donna...here is dressed in a manner that no other woman I have ever seen would adopt, but which is familiar enough to be the result of predictable changes in muggle society. You both speak with familiarity of a character in a cinema film which I gather will not be made for almost a decade.

"Am I to infer from this that you are time-travellers of some description?"

"Oh, she's good!" The Doctor crowed. "She's _really_ good!"

"And she's standing right here!" Donna snapped. "Don't mind him, Minerva. He thinks he's too clever to have to be polite. Yes, we travel in time, and space, in this thing. He calls it a TARDIS, which stands for something or other technical."

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space." The Doctor supplied.

"Quite." Minerva kept going, thinking aloud helped her absorb what was going on. "I gather, then, that you, Donna, are a muggle from some time in the future?"

"Well, I don't know what a 'muggle' is, but I'm from the 21st Century, which would be your future." Donna nodded.

"Muggle is what wizards call non-magical people." The Doctor chipped in again.

"Indeed." Minerva bent a piercing stare on him now. "But you, Doctor – Doctor _who_, exactly? You claim to be neither a muggle nor a wizard. But it is common knowledge that every human being is either a muggle, a wizard or a Squib."

"Ah!" The Doctor met her stare unflinchingly. "But I never claimed to be human, did I? I'm a TimeLord – _the_ TimeLord, actually – the last one. We never had wizards, or muggles."

Minerva blinked. "So, you are some kind of magical creature?" She asked. "A Fae, perhaps?"

"Oh, he's anything but fey!" Donna laughed. "He's an alien, from another planet. You do know what an alien is, right?"

Minerva was finally shaken. Some of her muggle-born classmates, as well as those half-bloods with less restrictive parents, had occasionally spoken of the concept of life on other planets, but she had taken little notice. Clearly the universe was more complicated than she had imagined. She shook her head to clear it.

"Very well. " She said slowly. "I am familiar with the concept of time-travel. It is a subject of keen research in the Department of Mysteries, I am told, and they have already produced a device called a Time-Turner which can transport an individual back several hours into the past.

"However, the idea of life – especially intelligent life – on other worlds is not one much considered in wizard society. When it is, it is with the assumption that all such races will also be divided into wizards and muggles. Am I to understand this is not the case?"

"It varies." The Doctor had begun fussing around the console. "The Klingons have wizards -you don't want to upset a Klingon wizard – but the Ferengi don't. The Narn used to have wizards but the Centauri wizards wiped them all out during the Occupation. The Vulcans don't have wizards but the Romulans do, which is odd because they're basically the same race. As for the Vorlons and the Q, either they're all wizards or none of them are, it's hard to tell.

"Then there's a bunch of humans in another galaxy who don't have wizards. They have people they call Jedi instead, who do different things. Even on Earth, you have people who aren't wizards or muggles, they call them 'mutants'.

"But right now, we've got more important things to think about."

"The statues?" Minerva asked. "What are they? I thought they might be animated by some kind of Dark magic. Guardians of some sort."

"Afraid not." The Doctor told her. "If it was that, I'd have left it in your capable hands, Minerva.

"The statues are another alien life-form. They're called the Weeping Angels, or the Lonely Assassins. They're as old as the Universe itself, and very dangerous. They feed on energy – specifically temporal energy which they get from sending people into the past, back before their birth, and feeding on the unused potential of their proper lives.

"Now look, these angels are incredibly fast and strong, and they can manipulate other forms of energy when they need to. But they've evolved a natural defence which is also their weakness. They can only exist when nobody sees them. Once they become seen, they're quantum-locked. Basically, they turn to stone. They can't move or act, but it's difficult to harm stone."

"I managed!" Minerva pointed out.

"Yes, you did." The Doctor said. "But that's just put you in more danger. They'll be looking out for you now. As to that one you shattered, if it can get access to energy, it'll slowly rebuild itself. If it can't, it will gradually crumble away and die."

"You said there was more of them." Donna said. "We all heard them screaming. What are they doing?"

"That's the problem." The Doctor was not grinning now. "They don't usually gather in numbers. If they see each other, they can get permanently locked and starve to death. That's why they cover their faces a lot of the time.

"But that many angels would need a lot of feeding, and I can't find any reports of large-scale disappearances locally."

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" Donna said. "This is a Communist country at the moment, so all the news would be controlled."

"Most of it, yes." The Doctor said. "But in the 1990's, when it all collapsed, a lot of records got released, and there's nothing at all in them. The police would have investigated, and they'd have had files. I've looked, but there was nothing."

"There was an old man I talked to, who said some people had vanished." Minerva said. "But not many."

"Not enough." The Doctor said. "They must be feeding on something else, and we need to find out what. There's something about that church that doesn't feel right. Not just the angels, the church itself.

"It's a Catholic church, dedicated to St Jude, patron saint of lost causes, and it's clearly been unused for years. Odd, because in Communist countries the governments usually either turn churches into museums or demolish them. Especially Catholic ones. They suspected the Vatican of spying for the West, you know."

"So, what do we do?" Donna wanted to know.

"There's one place where everything there is to know about any Catholic church can be found." The Doctor said. "The Vatican Archives. We need to go there."

"Rome is some distance away." Minerva pointed out. "The Vatican City is not linked to the Floo network – enemy territory, so to speak – but I can ask the Czech Ministry of Magic to provide a Portkey. We'll need to convince them of the urgency, however."

"No need." The Doctor was grinning again as he manipulated the controls. "I can get us there before we left! When in Rome, say what the Romans say. _Allons-y!_"

It was on the tip of Minerva's tongue to point out that this was not something they said in Rome, when she caught Donna's eye. The woman from the future had grabbed onto a railing nearby, and her meaningful glance persuaded Minerva to catch hold of something solid as well.

The Doctor flipped a lever, some kind of piston began to rise and fall inside the glass column that rose from the centre of the console, and the whirring, grinding noise Minerva had heard earlier that day filled the room. The TARDIS suddenly lurched sideways, spun violently for a few seconds, then seemed to shoot off in a random direction.

"He's a genius." Donna called to Minerva over the sound. "But his driving is totally naff!"

Fortunately for Minerva's stomach, the trip was short one. The room steadied and the sound stopped.

The Doctor examined a screen. "Perfect!" He declared. "Right in the middle of the secret section! Oh, I'm brilliant!

"Let's get going!"

"One moment." Minerva said. "Is there any clothing on this...vessel...that I might borrow?"

"Rooms full of clothes." Donna told her. "Why?"

"Is this venture we are on liable to occasion more running?" Minerva asked.

"Bound to." Donna stated. "No end of running in this lark."

"In that case." Minerva told her. "I shall require a pair of those running shoes, and.." she took a deep breath, "..a pair of trousers, please!"


	3. Chapter 3

**The Angels of Prague**

**Something Buried**

It said something about the power of convention, Minerva realised, that the thought of appearing in public in trousers made her more nervous than the reality of the alien creatures she had already faced. Still, what she was currently wearing was clearly not suitable for the situation she found herself in.

Donna had showed her to a large room, conveniently marked "Female Clothing: Earth (1900-2500)".

"I get a lot of the stuff I wear from here." Donna said. "When you go off with the Doctor, you don't always get time to pack! Somehow, the kit all gets washed and dried, don't ask me how.

"Little dressing room though there, ladies room the other side if you need it. Don't be too long, he gets impatient."

The room was an odd mixture of organisation and chaos. One end, for instance, was full of lockers, with a notice that said "Uniforms". These ranged from "WRNS (1939-45)", through "Earth Force (2230-2265)" to "StarFleet (2370-2390)". The rest of the room was simply rows of shelves, with bins underneath full of shoes, divided by decade. Minerva selected what she deemed to be the most suitable items and retired to the dressing room.

The controversial trousers were made from a sturdy, blue cotton cloth that reminded her of workmens' overalls. They fitted snugly, but surprisingly comfortably. _Trust men, _she thought, _to try and keep this to themselves!_ A pair of cotton socks went under the running shoes - marked with the name of 'Nike' , the Greek Goddess of Victory, she noted – which proved to be the most comfortable footwear, apart from carpet slippers, that she had ever worn.

Minerva carefully folded her nylons, suspender belt, half-slip and tweed skirt and placed them in her magically-extended handbag. She also appropriated a stout cloth bag she found in the dressing room, in which to place her sturdy brogues before they too went into the handbag. The cream jersey, fawn raincoat and tartan headscarf she was already wearing were probably adequate, but the handbag had better stay in the TARDIS for now. The raincoat, in particular, was important, as it had an extended pocket, designed to carry her wand.

Despite her nervousness, Minerva found her stride lengthening as she made her way back to the control room. Muggle skirts tended to be tighter and more constricting than witch robes, but the trousers allowed her to fall into a gait which seemed more natural to her. Nevertheless, she paused for a moment at the entrance to the control room.

The Doctor barely spared her attire a glance, simply nodding and saying "All set?"

Donna, however, gave her a smile and a thumbs-up gesture. "Looking good!" She said. "Jeans suit you!"

Without further ado, they ventured out of the TARDIS. Outside was a vast space, with a high, vaulted ceiling of ancient stone, a flagged floor and rows of bookshelves that extended as far as any of them could see in every direction. The air was dry and slightly cool, redolent with the unique scent of books and parchment. Minerva immediately felt oddly at home.

"These," said the Doctor in a low voice, "are the secret, secret archives. We're way beneath Vatican City. This place was built by Gaius Julius Caesar to keep some of the things he'd found in Gaul and Egypt. Things it wasn't safe for anyone else to see. The Papacy took charge of it later on, and they've been adding to the collection ever since. It's the only place that has more than one copy of the _Necronomicon_, and there's stuff that's even more dangerous. Be careful, and stick together!"

"Do we know what we're looking for?" Donna asked.

"Records to do with that church." The Doctor told her. "If I'm right, they should be..." he looked up at the end of a shelf, "..over that way!"

Minerva glanced at the shelf-end. There was a small plaque about seven feet up, marked with a series of numbers and letters. It was clearly part of a cataloguing system which the Doctor was apparently familiar.

They set off, not talking – this was a library after all – until the Doctor came to a sudden halt. He sniffed the air and gave a puzzled frown.

"Can anyone else smell bananas?" He asked.

Minerva had caught the smell too. "Oh, goodness!" She exclaimed. "It can't be!"

Without waiting to explain, she darted round a corner toward the source of the aroma, and found what she expected.

"Hello," she said, "what are you doing here?"

There was a large, male orang-utan, casually suspended half-way up one of the bookcases. This creature was the subject of much school legend at Hogwarts, where it was said to frequent the Library. Minerva had discovered the truth of the legend after a scrumping trip to the school orchard. She had taken herself off to the Library to do a little reading and enjoy her spoils in private. Obviously drawn by the scent of the apples, the ape had approached her, and when she had shown no sign of fear, had settled beside her to share her loot. Some weeks later, she had met him again, and he had consented to share a hand of bananas with her. They had become friends, of a sort. Minerva realised that the creature was intelligent far beyond the natural sagacity of his species, and privately suspected him of being an Animagus who had either been trapped in his animal form, or chosen to remain in it.

The orang-utan swung a little closer to her, and put his head on one side in an attitude of puzzlement. "Ook?" He asked, the questioning inflection unmistakable.

"She's with me." The Doctor said from behind her. "Hello, Librarian. Still collecting, I see."

The orang-utan gave the Doctor a hard stare. "Ook, ook." He said sternly. The Doctor shrugged.

"She got involved." He said. "Not her fault, or mine. But she's a Gryffindor – every inch a Gryffindor – so telling her to go home and forget about it wasn't an option. She's safer with me than bumbling about on her own."

This time the Librarian gave a large, toothy grin. "Ook!" He said, then asked. "Ook?"

"We're looking for records about a Church of St Jude in Prague." The Doctor replied. "For some reason, it's attracting a lot of Weeping Angels, and I want to know why."

The Librarian nodded vigorously. "Ook, eek!" He said, then swung off along the shelves until he reached an intersection, where he paused and beckoned them urgently.

As they set off after him, Donna asked. "You can understand him?"

"Not as such." The Doctor told her. "It's more that I know what he's saying."

"Is he a wizard?" Minerva asked. "I've often wondered."

"He used to be." The Doctor stated. "Magical accident, some time ago. They offered to try to change him back, but he's happy as he is."

"Makes sense." Donna said. "Life's a lot simpler for a m..."

The Doctor had stopped in his tracks and clapped his hand over her mouth. "Don't!" He said firmly. "Don't use the 'm'-word. He doesn't like it. He's an ape, not the ..other thing!"

Donna glared for a moment, then nodded. The Doctor let go and they resumed walking, the ape swinging ahead and occasionally checking to see they were still following.

"What kind of place has a m... an ape as a Librarian, anyway?" Donna wanted to know.

"The Unseen University." The Doctor replied. "A university for wizards on a rather unusual world in a pocket universe not too far from this one."

"So how did he get here?" Donna demanded.

"Libraries." The Doctor said impatiently. "Think about it. All that information, all that knowledge, thinking, speculation, emotion, study, _wanting to know_. Get enough of it in one place for long enough and it starts reaching out, making connections across Time and Space and, other stuff. Creating passages that those who know how can find.

"But not just anyone can do it. You have to know books, to love books, to live your life among them, to be able to find the passages. If you do, it can be dangerous, as well. That's why people sometimes disappear in big, old libraries like this one."

"Well, he doesn't seem bothered." Donna indicated the Librarian, who was swinging ahead as if he owned the place.

"He's an orang-utan." The Doctor pointed out. "He may look like a pile of cushions under a fur coat, but he's actually 260 pounds of bone and muscle. There's not a lot he has to be scared of. I've seen him pull the head off a Cyberman!"

By this time the Librarian had stopped in front of a set of shelves. He lifted out a series of folio volumes and laid them on a nearby table.

"Ook." He told the Doctor.

"Brilliant!" The Doctor enthused. "Thanks! This'll save us a lot of searching."

"Ook, ook?" The Librarian asked.

"Thanks for the offer." The Doctor replied. "But I think we'll manage, and you've got things to do."

The Librarian nodded. "Ook." He said sternly.

"Yes, yes, we'll put them back!" Said the Doctor testily.

The Librarian gave another of his toothy grins, then with a nod for Minerva, swung off back in the direction they'd come.

"Right!" The Doctor had produced a pair of spectacles form somewhere and now put them on. "We're going to have to go through these. They'll be in Latin. The TARDIS will translate for Donna, but Minerva..."

"I can read Latin." She told him. "Most witches and wizards can."

"Brilliant!" He crowed. "Let's get started then!"

Minerva could indeed read Latin fluently, and the crabbed, archaic script of the earlier volumes was similar enough to some of the older books at Hogwarts for her to have little difficulty in penetrating it. The volumes she was reading revealed that in the 14th Century, the church had actually been part of a small Benedictine priory. The annals were fairly dry accounts of dealings with the local population and nobility, the records of admissions, novitiates and so on, the appointments and removals of Priors -the day-to-day, year on year life of a small monastic community.

It was Donna who found the first real clue.

"Got something!" She announced. "Here, August 1942. The priest – Father Pavel – talks about some SS men who came into the church during Mass. They just started shooting at the congregation! Why would they do that?"

"August 1942?" The Doctor asked. "Less than a month after the assassination of Reichsprotektor Heydrich, the Nazi SS general in charge of Bohemia and Moravia – what the Nazis called Czechoslovakia after they invaded. There was a lot of that sort of thing going on, then - reprisals. Two villages, Lidice and Lezaky, were completely destroyed. Those Nazis could be worse than Daleks! At least Daleks rarely kill their own kind."

"Well, it seems this lot didn't get very far." Donna told him. "They'd only fired a few shots when something, some kind of creature, came out of the crypt and attacked the SS. Killed them all, then went back into the crypt."

"What kind of creature?" The Doctor asked.

"Don't know, never seen anything like it." Donna replied. "There's a sketch here."

It was on a separate sheet, which Donna handed to the Doctor as she continued to read. Minerva left her book and looked over his shoulder as he perused the drawing. It was obviously the work of a skilled artist and showed a man in some kid of military uniform cowering in front of a bizarre creature. The figure appeared to be rather over six feet tall, and bulky. Most of it was covered by what seemed to be folds of heavy fabric, surmounted by an elaborate shoulder-piece from which depended a hexagonal box. The head, or perhaps helmet, was long and narrow, with no face, but a single round aperture which might have been either a mouth or an eye. The artist had shaded it darkly, but suggested odd, vein-like patterns on the shoulder-piece.

"A Vorlon!" The Doctor exclaimed. "A Kesh, by the look of it – a soldier. What was a Vorlon doing on Earth in 1942?

"Donna, did it do or say anything else?"

Donna nodded. "According to Father Pavel, just before it left, it turned and said "Too soon." to him. It was after that the Vatican ordered the crypt to be bricked up and the church abandoned. But it was never de-consecrated, and they sent people in to look after it regularly. Especially to make sure the crypt was still sealed."

"Right." The Doctor pondered. "I've been seeing references to the crypt all through the records I've been reading. Warnings about keeping people away from it, and about odd things being seen in there and the rest of the church. I thought it might be ghost stories – you get a lot of those – but now it looks like there's more to it. Let's keep looking."

This time, Minerva and Donna spoke up simultaneously.

"One at a time!" The Doctor chuckled. "Minerva?"

"Right. In 1372 the Prior, his name was Stephen, was the subject of some complaints from local priests. They accused him of witchcraft. Nobody took any notice until one of the monks from the Priory went to the Archbishop. He accused Prior Stephen of being a sorceror and conducting rituals in the crypt of the Priory church. The Archbishop set off himself with some Inquisitors and a body of armed men.

"But by the time they got there, half the Priory was in flames. They managed to put the fires out, but all of the monks were either dead, insane or had completely lost their memories. There was no sign of the Prior, but the found something in the crypt."

"What?" Donna wanted to know.

"A hole in the air, inside a magic circle, it says." Minerva paused for a moment, reading on, then. "They erased the circle, but the thing didn't vanish. The Archbishop tried to exorcise it, but nothing happened. It's described as being about the size of a mans' fist, radiating a bitter cold, and sucking at metal objects. Hmm, odd.

"Anyway, they closed the Priory down, but converted the church into a parish one. The only odd thing is that every parish priest, from then on, was required to be a trained exorcist."

"Ah!" The Doctor mused. "Cold, strong magnetic field. Don't like the sound of that!

"What about you, Donna?"

"Just this." She said. "Two years ago, the regular maintenance crew were sent to the church, but none of them came out. They sent a couple of priests to see what was going on, and they vanished, too. There've been a few disappearances locally, as well. The church was ordered closed and they're still deliberating as to what to do about it."

The Doctor shook his head. "I thought that was it." He said. "I found this book hidden among the others." He held up a small octavo volume. "It's an account of things seen and found over the years in the crypt and church.

The two women peered over his shoulder. The book had both descriptions and illustrations. Some were of animals of various kinds, including giant centipedes and scorpions, bats, cats and dog- or cat-like creatures. "Most of these have been extinct for millennia." The Doctor explained.

Other items were clearly not living things, but a range of objects and devices. Donna recognised a mobile phone and a laptop computer, but there were several more she could not identify.

"From the future." The Doctor said. "I think I know what's going on, now. This Prior Stephen must have somehow opened a temporal rift in the crypt, though I don't know how."

"Magic." Minerva told him. "there are a great many wizards fascinated with the idea of time and time-travel. We have spells and techniques that allow us to travel immense distances in space, and we can manipulate material objects and even energy to a considerable degree. But time has always proved recalcitrant. We can see the past, to some extent, though seeing the future remains problematic. There is an experimental device called a Time-Turner which allows the wearer to travel a few hours into the past with relative safety. But the solution to real time-travel remains elusive. Clearly this Prior Stephen was a wizard of some skill and power, fascinated with this problem."

"He was a fool!" The Doctor snapped. "Time travel isn't for just anyone!"

"Only TimeLords, right?" Donna said. "The only ones clever enough to get it right?"

"It's not that, not really." The Doctor responded earnestly. "Look, you can see space, right? You can see where you're going and how to get there, what's in your way and whether you can move it or have to go round it. You evolved that way, your senses are adapted to it. As you've become more advanced, you've developed technology that helps, allows you to build roads, sail over oceans, fly between continents.

"We TimeLords evolved near the Untempered Schism, and it affected us. We see time like you see space, what can be changed and what can't, when we can go and when we can't or shouldn't. Without those special senses, humans time-travelling is like running around in the pitch dark. You don't know where you're going or what's around you, you can damage things and injure yourselves without meaning to."

"I dare say." Minerva said. "But we have a more immediate problem. This rift, as you call it, and it's connection to the Weeping Angels."

"Oh, that's easy!" The Doctor declared. "The rift has been there all the time. Growing steadily but slowly, getting stronger. While it was sealed in the crypt, anything that came through would probably just end up going back. We know that by 1942 – just over ten years ago – it was big enough to let that Vorlon through from the future. We also know that from the time the Priory was closed until about the beginning of the 21st Century, the rift was inaccessible because everything that has come through was from either before that period or after it.

"But rifts like that spill out temporal energy, which the Angels feed on. Once it got big enough, one or more of them must have sensed it. They'd have no problem breaking into the crypt, and word would have got around of a large, risk-free food source. God knows how many of them are in there, now!"

"Is it really a problem?" Donna asked. "I mean, they've got plenty of food. As long as people stay away from the church -and surely we can do something about that – there shouldn't be any danger!"

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" The Doctor said sadly. "But the Angels are intelligent beings, not animals, and they're psychopaths, hunters. The energy from the rift feeds them, makes them strong, but it doesn't satisfy them the same way the energy from an unlived life does."

"Like porridge." Minerva put in with a wry grin. "A bowl of it will keep you going half the day, but it's a chore to eat it!"

"Exactly!" The Doctor said. "But if they have a safe place, where they can get strong, reproduce, add to their numbers, then they could start hunting in packs. There's no limit to the damage they could do!

"Another thing. The rift is still growing. Sooner or later it will go critical. A temporal explosion that would cause real havoc. Big enough to rip the Earth right out of space and time. Make it as if this planet and everything on it had never existed. That would cause ripples across the entire time-stream – you people have no idea how important this planet is!"

"It's pretty flippin' important to me!" Donna stated. "So we need to close this rift, then."

"We can't." The Doctor said. "Not from here, or now, actually." He was shoving books back onto the shelf as he spoke. "It's too big, too stable by now, and we'd never get past the Angels. We can't get any help, UNIT hasn't been formed yet and Torchwood can't operate behind the Iron Curtain.

"We need to go back to 1372, to either stop the Prior from opening the rift, or close it before it's too big. Come on!"

He set off at a run toward the TARDIS, Minerva and Donna following.

None of them had noticed the shadowed niche nearby, or the statue in it. An angel, hands held before its face. Then after a moment, it wasn't there any more.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Angels of Prague**

**A Prior Engagement**

Back in the TARDIS, as the Doctor fussed with the controls, Donna began pacing around.

Minerva had by now passed the stage of being surprised by anything that happened today. She was, apparently, about to set out into the far past, to prevent a long-dead wizard from creating a literal 'time-bomb' that might destroy the world. Fair enough. Either it would happen or she would wake up soon. It never occurred to Minerva that she might die -she was 18 years old and a Gryffindor. Death was something that happened to other people. So she was surprised that Donna, clearly a veteran of this kind of thing, seemed suddenly nervous.

Just as the engines started – without throwing them around this time – Donna turned to the Doctor.

"Doctor," she said slowly, "I thought you said you weren't supposed to alter the past like this?"

"I'm not supposed to alter the_ real_ past." The Doctor said without looking up. "But I know that the Earth didn't get ripped apart by a rogue temporal rift. I know exactly when Earth was destroyed – I was there. Just like I was when it first formed. This is a false time-stream that's got tangled up with ours. Timey-wimey stuff."

"So if we don't act, or acting, fail to succeed," Minerva hazarded, "this false future will replace the proper one?"

"Over-write it, yes." The Doctor agreed. "That happens all the time, and a lot of the time it doesn't matter, since one future is a lot like another. Every decision everyone takes makes a tiny alteration in their time-stream, but not enough to change anything major. Like pebbles thrown into the sea. They only make a couple of ripples, if that. But if a volcano erupts on the sea-bed, you get a tsunami.

"What we've got here, is somebody blowing a hole in the world big enough for the entire sea to drain into!"

"I had assumed," Minerva pondered, "that time was a fixed, linear thing. A line from the past through the present to the future. I think most wizards think of it that way. We appear to be mistaken."

"You have no idea!" Donna told her. "Time's all over the place, like a ball of wool the cat's been at!"

Minerva nodded. "That would explain the lack of success we have had with time-travel magic. A matter I think I will keep to myself, in light of what I now understand."

"Told you she was a clever one!" The Doctor crowed as the TARDIS came to a stop. "Right, we're here. If I got it right, we're here a few hours before the bishop and his people arrived. With any luck, we can save his Grace some trouble. _Allons-y_!"

They stepped out into late afternoon sunlight. To one side, in the middle distance, was a walled town which Minerva assumed to be a long-ago Prague. Between that and where she stood was a sweep of fields, interrupted with small copses and spinneys, all apparently well coppiced. On the other side was a smaller walled enclosure, with several buildings inside, one of which she recognised as the church, though it was smaller than the one she remembered.

The Doctor led off with a confident stride, until he came to a large gate in the wall, which stood open. He led them through this into a courtyard in front of the church.

"Ha! Thought so!" He said. "This gate is for public access to the church. The monks come through that one over there." He indicated a narrower gate in the wall off to one side.

"Why two gates?" Donna wanted to know.

"In this particular time," Minerva explained, "the law required people to attend church daily. Obviously, for farmers and workers outside the town proper, this church is easier to reach."

"Exactly." The Doctor agreed. "The monks have to attend services several times a day, of course, and they have their own gate direct from the Priory. But if I've got my canonical hours right, this should be the time for private prayer and meditation. They'll either be in their cells or walking in the cloisters, they shouldn't disturb us. With any luck, they'll never know we were here."

Minerva was familiar with the smell of a church – dust, candles and incense – but this one had an added layer. A sharp reek of unwashed male bodies.

"Faugh!" Donna exclaimed. "Smells like the boy's changing room!"

"How would you know what that smells like?" Minerva was curious.

Donna grinned. "It's not only boys who wonder what the opposite sex looks like without their clothes on!" She stated. "When I was 13, me and a friend hid in the boy's changing room and saw our first willies. We weren't impressed, but the room wasn't very warm!"

"Ah." Minerva said. "In my case, I was 15, and it was under a Disillusionment Charm in the Prefects' Bathroom at Hogwarts. The scenery there was rather more...interesting."

"Lucky you!" Donna said.

"That's enough lubricious reminiscence, ladies!" The Doctor said firmly. "This should be the way to the crypt."

The stairs were narrow and dark, Minerva produced her wand and cast an illuminating charm. Then as they turned a corner, another light source appeared. It came from around the frame of a heavy wooden door in front of them. Bight and blue-white, bringing with it a sudden cold.

"That's not right!" The Doctor declared. "It shouldn't be that big or bright!"

He pulled out the little device Minerva had seen him use before. It produced a blue glow and a trilling sound.

"The Rift's been opened up from the other side!" He exclaimed. "But who...?"

As if in answer, the door swung open. Silhouetted against the glare were five chillingly familiar figures.

"Keep looking at them!" Snapped the Doctor.

Three Angels stood in a line between them and the rift, clearly a guard. Two more stood, one either side of the rift, arms outstretched toward it.

"Somehow, they must have found out what we're trying to do." The Doctor said grimly. "They can manipulate energy, if they're strong enough. They must have opened the rift enough for one of them to come back and hold it open for the others.

"So how do we get past them?"

"Keep watching all of them." Minerva told them. "I have a trick or two they won't expect."

She focused on one of the Angels that was keeping the rift open. Trapped by its own defence mechanism, the creature had no way to resist or escape as she levitated it back into the rift. On the edge of hearing, there was a scream of rage and fear, and she knew she had to act quickly.

One of the guards was next, and that was when things went wrong. As it vanished into the glow, there was a shattering crash, and a piercing, unearthly scream. Fragments of charred stone flew out of the rift.

"It must have hit one coming the other way!" The Doctor yelled.

But their attention had wavered, and one of the others was less than a foot from Minerva, arm outstretched, its face a feral snarl full of sharp fangs. Not taking her eyes from it, she backed quickly away and cast _Reducto_. The Angel shattered.

Minerva looked around. Only two Angels remained. One in the doorway, arms outstretched to block the path. The other remained by the rift, arms still held out, but head turned to the door, as if torn between keeping the portal open and aiding its ally.

"Keep watching them both!" Minerva barked, and set off toward the door.

"Be careful!" Donna shouted.

"Too late for that!" Minerva muttered as she began to ease her slender frame under the Angels' arm, between its stony form and the door-post.

There were advantages, she allowed, to being tall and skinny. None of her shorter, curvier contemporaries could have slipped through this gap, a feat she achieved with the aplomb of a seasoned cat-burglar. She also could not have done this in a skirt, or without ruining her nylons!

She crossed the room to the remaining Angel, and without further ado, lifted it into the rift. The result was an unexpected, dazzling blaze of light.

Minerva heard the Doctor yell. "Look out!" Then something brushed past her, knocking her to the floor. As she blinked to clear her vision, she had a vague glimpse of a figure vanishing into the rift.

She pulled herself to her feet, then Donna was there, sweeping her into an enthusiastic hug.

"That was _wicked_, luv!" She exulted. "Are you OK?"

Minerva was unused to such ebullient physicality, but managed to return the hug. "I'm well." She allowed. "Thank you for backing me up!"

"Ha! They can't hold it from the other end!" The Doctor announced.

As they watched, the rift flickered, dimmed and shrank. Soon it was no bigger than a mans' fist.

That's the job half done." The Doctor told them. "Now I've got to close it all the way, and even with a rift this small, that's going to take time. You two go upstairs and watch out for the Prior. He may come to check on his little experiment."

The two women knew something was going on as soon as they got back into the nave. Through the open door they could hear shouts and screams. They exchanged a look, then went to the door.

The courtyard was full of black-robed figures, running around in confusion or cowering against the walls. In a clear space in the centre stood a figure. A red-faced, corpulent monk brandishing a wand and shouting harshly.

"Who has been in the crypt? Did I not forbid it to you? Who is the spy, the traitor? Speak, or you will all suffer! _Crucio_!"

The curse was flung randomly at the nearest monk, who fell to the ground, writhing and screaming.

Minerva pulled Donna close and spoke into her ear. "You get the monks out, I'll deal with the wizard!"

With that she stepped out into the courtyard and invoked "_Impedimenta_!"

The wizard staggered back, his concentration broken. The monk he'd been torturing scrambled away on his hands and knees. Then Donna was flying at the rest. Even at such a moment, Minerva found time to be amused. The average height of the monks seemed to be between 5'3" and 5'5". Donna was easily 5'7" and of a statuesque build. She was also blessed with a deep and powerful voice. The sight of this Amazonian figure, bearing down on them, bellowing "Get out of it, you lot! Don't flamin' stand around, you muppets! Leg it!" was more than enough to set the poor men to full flight.

But Minerva had more serious matters to deal with. The wizard had recovered himself, and was now staring at her.

"Prior Stephen, I assume?" Minerva said.

"Stefan Gaunt!" He snapped. "And who are you, child?"

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am of age, I assure you." She replied calmly, whilst wondering in the back of her mind how it was they understood each other. "My colleagues and I have found it necessary to close your rift."

"My portal?" He roared. "The outcome of a lifetime's work? Work your pathetic female mind could never grasp? How dare you?"

"It was necessary." Minerva repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the cold grip of fear in her stomach. "Your portal represented a clear and present danger to the entire world, sir. We had no choice. I am sure the destruction of this world and everything in it was not part of your plan."

Stephen snorted. "It is not even relevant, wench. Once I have left, this world can live or die as it pleases. This pathetic mudball is nothing, nothing to what I have seen, what I have been shown!

"There are worlds beyond this one, filled with wonders. Peopled with ancient beings who truly understand magic. My portal will allow me to travel there, to learn true power. That goal is worth an entire world of small-minded fools and pathetic, dung-stained muggles!

"Now stand aside, whore, or die!"

Apart from being quite mad, Minerva noted, the man was impossibly rude. 'Wench' was bad enough, but 'whore' put the tin lid on it! Without another word, she lifted her wand in a formal salute. Stephen did not return the gesture, merely cast a vicious hex, which she blocked, and the duel was on!

Minerva had been a member of an illicit Duelling Club at school, and had been regarded as a formidable opponent even by students older than herself. But this was the first time she had engaged in a serious, no-spells-barred, battle.

It quickly became apparent that Stefan Gaunt was a wizard of considerable power and no small skill. He battered at her defence with a torrent of hexes and curses, clearly intending to overwhelm her swiftly. But Minerva herself was a very skilled witch, and she was finding reserves of power she had not known she possessed. Power and skill enough to begin a series of counter-attacks that gradually placed her adversary on the back foot.

There was something else Minerva noticed. Gaunts' spells, though mostly familiar to her, were somehow different. His wand gestures were awkward and over-elaborate by her standards, making them slower to cast than hers. The way he pronounced some of the spells was archaic – it seemed to lessen their effectiveness. He also seemed incapable of the non-verbal casting that was an essential part of senior magical education at Hogwarts.

A Hogwarts, Minerva realised, that she had attended some six hundred years _after_ this man had left whatever school he might have attended. Six hundred years of magical research by brilliant wizards determined to perfect their craft and pass what they had learned on to the next generation. Had this Gaunt crossed wands with any of Minervas' teachers – especially the brilliant Albus Dumbledore -he would have been beaten in moments. As it was, she was rapidly gaining the upper hand.

There was another factor. Gaunt was obviously in his fifties or sixties, overweight and hampered by his heavy robes. Minerva was 18, fit and agile, and in this unconventional clothing, her movement was unrestricted. With that in mind, Minerva began, literally, to run rings round her rapidly-tiring opponent. It didn't take long. A fast, silent, _expelliarmus _sent Gaunt's wand spinning across the courtyard, and he went down to one knee, panting and sweating.

Minerva approached him cautiously, and he looked up at her, wonder in his face.

"By all the gods, girl, you have power. Whence comes it in one so young?" He panted.

Minerva was a truthful young woman, and now she knelt in front of him and spoke gently. "It comes from the future, sir, as do I. Six hundred years into the future. What power and skill I have I owe, in large part, to the witches and wizards who will come after you and before me. Men and women who worked to improve our craft, spent their lives in study.

"But if you had succeeded with your portal, this entire world would have ceased to exist. I am told, it would cease ever to have existed."

Gaunts' eyes widened. "Be as if it had never been?" He gasped. "Oh, but I am a fool! How could I travel to the far places I dreamed of if my world – the world that gave me birth – had never existed?"

"Complicated, isn't it?" This was the Doctor, who had come up behind Minerva. "Messing about with the fabric of space and time is hard enough when you know what you're doing. I'm afraid I had to close your rift, Father Prior, but everything is safe now."

"I thank you, sir." Gaunt said seriously. "Who might you be?"

"Me?" The TimeLord gave that slightly manic grin that managed to be both charming and unnerving. "I'm the Doctor."

Gaunt tried to rise, Minerva got up and assisted him. He nodded his thanks to her, then bowed to the Doctor. "I have heard of you, Doctor. In part, you were the inspiration for my ambitions. You must think me very foolish."

The Doctor shook his head. "No! How could it be foolish to want to be like me?" He said cheerfully. "You just went about it the wrong way, that's all! And of course, you're not nearly as clever as I am!"

He held up Gaunts' wand, which he must have retrieved. "Eleven inches, sturdy, black walnut and unicorn hair. Very nice." He said. "If I give you this back, will you behave?"

"You have my word." Gaunt said solemnly. The Doctor handed the wand back, and he tucked it firmly into the sleeve of his habit.

"I must leave this place, and quickly." He said. "Sooner or later, word of what has occurred will reach the Inquisition. I would be gone before they arrive."

"You could come with us." the Doctor suggested. "I can take you to any time or place you'd like, if you still want to see what's out there."

"You won't have to rush." Minerva added. "After the scare Donna gave them, I doubt if any of those monks will stop running for at least a week!"

"Oi!" Donna protested, but she was grinning.

Gaunt shook his head. "I thank you for the offer, Doctor, but my mind is now changed. I have seen the future, in the shape of this formidable and compassionate young woman, and I like what I see.

"After so many years of selfish questing, I think I must now dedicate the time I have left to ensuring that future comes about, or at least bearing my part in it. I shall go to Durmstrang Academy, where I understand they are in want of masters.

"I am honoured to have spoken with you, Doctor. Minerva McGonagall, it has been an honour to cross wands with you, and a deep delight to see in you what the future holds. Farewell!"

With that, he turned on the spot and disapparated with a thunderous boom.

Then Minerva was being hugged yet again by Donna.

"Well, look at _you_!" Donna crowed. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee! That was awesome!"

"I've had worse days." Minerva admitted.

The Doctor laughed. "I knew we were right to bring you along. You can always rely on a Gryffindor. Godric would be proud!"

"You knew Godric Gryffindor?" Minerva asked, not really surprised.

"Oh, I knew them all!" The Doctor said airily. "Especially Helga!"

"Oh, really?" Donna asked. "And exactly how well did you know this Helga?"

"Let's get back to the TARDIS!" Said the Doctor.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Angels of Prague**

**5. The Times We Have Seen**

Minerva McGonagall left the Church of St Jude and made her way back to the small yard where the TARDIS waited.

"Everything is as it should be." She told the Doctor and Donna. "The floral arrangements are particularly pleasing."

"Brilliant!" The Doctor was pleased. "So the anomaly the Prior set up was just that -an anomaly. Something that should never have happened."

"Something that never did happen!" Donna told him.

"I suppose," Minerva said, "that I can never tell anyone about this?"

"Better not to." The Doctor agreed. "Unless you ever meet a man called Jack Harkness. He'd believe you, nobody else would!

"So that just leaves us with one more question. Minerva McGonagall, how do you feel about a slightly grander Tour? Say, anywhere you fancy in time and space?"

It says something about how tempting Minerva found the offer that it took her – normally so decisive – a full minute to make up her mind.

"Thank you, but no." She said regretfully. "The offer is truly tempting, but I have responsibilities. My parents are no longer young, and I have two younger brothers who I am convinced will never be able to take care of themselves."

"Time machine, remember?" The Doctor said. "We could whizz around for a year, and have you back before you left!"

Minerva shook her head. "No, Doctor, I know myself too well. If I once begin this adventure, I will never want to stop, and as I said, I have responsibilities.

"I will miss both of you. Almost as much as I will miss my jeans and Nikes!"

They all laughed, then the Doctor said. "Well, the least we can do is get you back to your friends."

The girls were sitting at a couple of tables outside a small cafe in the wizard quarter of Prague. Minerva had been worried about getting her friends past the wizard watchman, but he apparently recognised the Doctor, and let them through without a word.

"What can I say?" The Doctor had said. "I'm famous!"

"Legend in his own lunchtime, this one!" Donna said. Then she hugged Minerva again. "It's been great!" She said. "You were great! You take care of yourself, now, Minerva."

"I will. You also, Donna." Minerva replied, then turned to the Doctor and took his arm. "Can I beg one last favour?"

"Anything." The Doctor replied.

The two walked decorously arm-in-arm down the street until Minerva was sure all her friends had seen them and were watching. Then she stopped and turned to the Doctor. "Goodbye, Doctor, and thank you for everything!" Then she reached up, pulled his head down to hers and proceeded to give him a highly indecorous kiss.

Donna, watching from a shop doorway, could barely suppress her laughter. She watched the Doctor surface, his look of astonishment giving way to a wide grin. He leant down again, whispered something in Minerva's ear, then strolled back toward Donna as Minerva moved toward her friends.

"Don't say anything!" He said to her grin.

"Just one thing." Donna insisted. "What did you whisper to her?"

"Oh," he replied airily, "just that if she ever met a kid called Harry Potter, to make sure she watched his first flying lesson!"

Minerva responded to the babble of questions and comments with a small smile and some teasingly vague replies. Finally, the girls gave up and, by common consent, decided to make their way back to the hotel to get ready for the evening.

Genevieve, however, caught Minerva's arm and held her back until they were out of earshot of the others.

"Min," she said, "I'm thinking that we ought to be moving on. The girls are getting a bit bored and homesick."

Minerva nodded. "There is a change of mood. Perhaps a day or so in Moscow, just to say we completed the Tour, then home?"

"You always were the clever one!" Gen said warmly. "Travelling around is fun for a bit, but school's over and it's time for real life. Jobs to get and husbands to find, eh?"

"Jobs to get, certainly." Minerva allowed.

Gen gave her a shrewd look. "Husband not high on your agenda, Min? Didn't think so. But not all of us are as capable of making our own way in the world as you are! Most people need somebody, you know!

"Anyway, we'd better catch up with the others and tell them what we've decided."

"Indeed." Said Minerva. "_Allons-y!_"

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor immediately began to work on the controls.

"What's up?" Donna asked. "Did I miss something?"

"No." He told her. "But I nearly did! No 14th Century wizard, no matter how powerful or clever, could have created that rift without getting dragged into and coming out of the other end like toothpaste! Even Rowena Ravenclaw couldn't have done it!

"It could have been a natural rift, like the one in Cardiff, that he tried to make expand. But then there are others who'd've closed it.

"Also, that Prior gave up a bit too easily. I didn't say anything because I wouldn't want to take anything away from Minerva. She did brilliantly, and she deserves to remember it like that.

"But something or someone else was involved!"

"Those aliens?" Donna hazarded. "The Vorlons, you called them?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No. Not their style. Anyway, the Vorlons avoid wizards and telepaths. Both are too prone to finding things out the Vorlons want hidden. They're a very private species.

"But there are some other people I know who could and would do something like that. We're going to see them now, and they'd better have a very good reason for doing it!"

Commodore Braxton looked up at the man who had just entered his office.

"Lieutenant Commander." He acknowledged. "I've just read your report. You undertook rather a high-risk strategy."

"It was necessary, sir." The other man replied. "I take full responsibility for any breach of protocol. But the mission was successful."

Braxton waved a hand. "Sit down, Stephen, this isn't a disciplinary meeting. I just need some clarification. Why didn't you call for backup when the Lonely Assassins appeared at the 1955 end of your rift?"

"I was about to, sir, but then the TARDIS was detected. The Doctor would have noticed the arrival of Temporal Corps troops, and would have unravelled the entire plan. That would have been a major breach of security, and as we all know, sir, the Doctor is far from predictable!" Replied Stephen Lupin.

"That's true." Braxton admitted. "On the last occasion our paths crossed, he took exception to our actions. It took us a month to get our systems back online. Unfortunately, the TARDIS incorporates some kind of stealth technology, so we can never tell when or where he will turn up." Braxton sighed. "The Doctor is Temporal Corps' cross to bear, just as Q is for StarFleet!"

Stephen nodded. "It was fortunate that I used the Polyjuice shots rather than a holo-generator to change my appearance. The Doctor would've seen straight through a hologram. As it is, I think I convinced him.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Always."

"Thank you. As much of a thrill and an honour as it was to meet an important historical figure like Minerva McGonagall, I still don't see why it was so important to warn her about that dangers of time-travel at the risk of her life."

Braxton looked hard at the younger man, then seemed to come to a decision.

"What can you tell me about the events of the night of 31st October, 1981, old Terran calendar?" He asked.

"What every wizard knows!" Stephen said. "And most Muggles, since the Rediscovery. That was the night that Lord Voldemort killed James and Lily Potter, and attempted to kill Harry Potter."

"Precisely." Braxton said. "A key point in wizard history.

"Were you aware that in the autumn of 1993, Minerva McGonagall, then Deputy Head of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House, lent a Time-Turner device to one of her students, a Hermione Granger?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Replied Stephen. "It's family history. Harry and Hermione used the Time-Turner to rescue Sirius Black from Dementors and to help him escape Hogwarts. My ancestor, Remus Lupin, was involved – he was a teacher at Hogwarts."

"And that is where the problem arose." Braxton said. "You know that our Charter states that we must preserve the timeline. Well, our researchers discovered a potential alternate line. One in which Minerva McGonagall became interested in time-travel. As such, she tinkered with the device she lent to Hermione Granger, greatly increasing its power and range, so that instead of going back a few hours, the user could travel back several decades along their own timeline.

"Hermione mentioned this fact to Sirius Black in passing. When he was rescued from Hogwarts, Black took the time-turner forcibly from the teenagers, and along with your ancestor, went to Godrics' Hollow. There they travelled back to October 1981 and ambushed Voldemort as he approached the Potter home. The Potters, alerted by the sounds of the battle, rushed out to join their friends. Outnumbered and taken by surprise, Voldemort was killed before he even saw Harry Potter."

"He couldn't have been!" Stephen noted. "The Horcruxes..."

"Exactly." Braxton agreed. "But because of that, Harry Potter never acquired the special protection he had from Voldemort's touch or magic. The boy was killed in his first year at Hogwarts and Voldemort gained the Philosopher's Stone and his full power."

"So he conquered the wizard world?" Stephen was pale.

"No, it was worse than that." Braxton was grim. "He took over wizard Britain, and attempted to spread his ideology into Europe. The White Council became involved at that point. Albus Dumbledore had discovered the existence of the Horcruxes and passed that information along to the Council before he died. An agent of the Council, Harry Dresden, found and destroyed all the Horcruxes, as well as setting in motion a full-scale rebellion against Voldemorts' rule in Britain.

"Things went badly for Voldemort, and he was forced to flee to Canada and try to regroup his forces. He was killed a few months later by a very unusual Muggle. An agent of Department H, codenamed Wolverine.

"But the damage had been done, and a massive civil war took place in the wizard community. It spilled over into the Muggle world and action became necessary. By the mid 21st Century, wizards were extinct on Earth. Your colonies were never founded, the Rediscovery never happened – there was nothing to rediscover – and you, Lieutenant Commander Stephen Lupin, were never born."

"All because Minerva McGonagall took an interest in time-travel." Stephen shook his head. "One little thing."

"History depends on such trivia." Braxton told him. "If Cleopatras' nose had been a little shorter...But this is why it was necessary to create the persona of Prior Stephen Gaunt and open a temporal anomaly in Prague. A small risk to prevent a huge loss. The intervention of the Doctor was unforeseen, but as it turns out, he might have been far more effective in convincing Minerva than we could be."

"So as long as he doesn't figure it out..." Stephen began, but was interrupted by an all-too-familiar whirring, groaning sound.


End file.
